


Passively-Aggressive

by whiteflagger



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Romance, Gen, M/M, Platonic Romance, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiteflagger/pseuds/whiteflagger
Summary: A star student has no right to suck at anything. You are pretty sure that physics is counted as a part of this 'anything' as you stare with contempt at your 89% test score. This is ridiculous. Completely unacceptable.Pathetic.You let your gaze slowly drift to the opposite side of the room and burn a hole in the sheet with a perfect 98% score a certain green-eyed blond is holding in his hands. Of-fucking-course.You sigh heavily and swallow your pride, finally admitting your defeat. Internally.Your name is Technoblade and you are about ask annoying physics nerd for help. You will, most probably, regret this decision for the rest of your life.Or will you?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/Dave | Technoblade
Comments: 20
Kudos: 234





	1. Wednesday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fcnotfound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fcnotfound/gifts).



> dream and techno, if you will, for some reason, ever stumble upon this thing, please, just pretend it does not exist i'm begging you, just don't open it.
> 
> cw//swearing
> 
> \----  
> DISCLAIMER:
> 
> before i get shat on, lemme explain.
> 
> the ship in this fic is mostly platonic, the romance will be kind of present but it won't be the center, nor will it be too graphic or passionate, more like mutual admiration and respect. let me know if either of them are openly opposed to the idea of being shipped in any way, and if you do, i'd appreciate if you'll also leave a link to the actual statement and i swear i will take my work down.
> 
> this story will be relatively short by the way, only a few chapters.
> 
> hope you'll enjoy :)
> 
> \----  
> p.s. sup fashioncakes~

Your name is Technoblade and you are unbelievably tired.

You just finished your last preparatory exam for today and you think you nailed it. You hope you did. You most likely got a couple answers wrong but that can’t be critical, can it now. You revised all the stupid physics formulas you could get your hands on and got from zero to no sleep studying tonight, - as well as the night before, - so if you just dumped your health for nothing, you’re gonna start, quotes, “stabbin’ shit” quite literally.

You sigh and casually shove all your stuff back into your backpack, tiredly rubbing your eyes behind the glasses. You can feel your legs shake in anticipation of your traditional fourteen hour-long marathon of nothing but dumbly drooling on your pillow and snoring obnoxiously, granting your roommate a sleepless night, to the latter’s frustration.

That, or you’re just very fucking exhausted, because you couldpractically feel the last drops of caffeine leave your system almost physically, making your eyelids heavy and limbs numb, much to your own annoyance.

You shake your head, stubbornly blink away your drowsiness and yawn, looking around briefly. You see Will, probably sleeping on his desk, you see Bad nervously bragging about something to Ant and of course, _of course_ you see _Dream_ in all his cocky might, apparently having a nice chat with Niki.

You hate that guy.

Okay, no, not really, but you are too focused on beating him in academics to see him as anything, other than your very own number one anime rival. You know for a fact that he always steals a glance at your sheet whenever teachers hand them back to the class, with the marks written on top of the page in bold, bloody red cursive, because you do exactly the same thing. Not to brag or anything, but your language and chemistry points have always been a tad bit higher than his, and you could see his jaw clench each time you “accidentally” left your graded paper straight on your table, visible to literally anyone in the room just to piss him off. You don’t get to feel bad, because he always pulls the same card on you with his stupidly, surreally high maths and physics grades, that little-

At this point, you are positive that this silly passively-aggressive war has been going ever since his vegetable sculpture art project has been graded higher than yours in elementary.

Not like you’re _salty_ for this one time or anything, haha, it was just a dumb project for dumb toddlers.

(You very much are.)

You feel stupid right after you think about it, giving yourself a mental bitch-slap.

At least it’s the end of your sufferings, because as soon as everyone’s papers are neatly stacked on teacher’s desk, he dismisses the class and your entire group pours into hallways, along with the rest of the school and you get lost in the crowd of loud, annoying and grossly sweaty teenagers and the flow takes you to the backyard filled with stereotypical round american high-school lunch tables. Your stomach growls and you cringe at the sensation and stand in the short line to retrieve your portion of hardly edible food.

With the tray finally in your hands, you scan the area shortly and quickly spot your group of friends with Phil waving at you to get your attention. You fix your old red backpack that is hanging loosely on your shoulder and wave back, elbowing your way through stacks of students, muttering apologies mixed with curses under your breath. You aren’t really into curses that much but hey if no one can prove that it happened then it never did, that’s how the universe works basically.

Philza offers you a welcoming smile that you habitually return, taking your seat next to the blond. He is actually your senior, with you being in your eleventh year and even though you aren’t really sure of how exactly did the two of you even meet in the first place, you are still quite thankful you did. Phil is a chill guy, he doesn’t demand shit from you, he is pretty good at video games and he is generally cool and collected. You can’t say the same about the two kids sitting across from you and energetically discussing something you’re pretty sure a normal human can not actually comprehend. Tubbo and Tommy, in contrast with Philza, are your juniors and they are a literal fucking _walking catastrophe._ You’re not even sure _why_ did you still not choke one of them (cough cough Tommy), but you guess that’s for the best. Wilbur likes them and that’s enough of a reason for you to not really question their presence in here, - the fact that they can sometimes make you huff an amused laughter at their shitty jokes and shenanigans is enough to satisfy you and let them hang around occasionally. Speaking of Wilbur again, he is the only person in your company who is in the same year as you and he is amazing, a bit dramatic, sure, but that only adds to his surreal charisma. You enjoy their company.

“Lord, I hate physics,” Will mumbles breathlessly, unpacking his yogurt. “It’s so fucking annoying, I just don’t understand it at all, literally, what the hell.”

Philza chuckles softly and you reassuringly pat Wilbur’s shoulder, taking a bite of your sandwich. You understand his struggles, you really do, physics suck it big. Even with all your preparation and determination you aren’t sure that you will ever be able to get good at it. Your own pride and the pressure from the others are probably the only things that prevent you from completely stopping to give a crap about this subject. If you will get enough for an ‘A’ on this trial test, it all will be worth it in the end. You hope it will.

The lunch break ends quickly enough, and so do the classes in the second half of the day and you can finally go to your room, close all the curtains, lock the door and let the world burn while you sleep neatly in your warm and crunchy bed. You end up dreaming about it on computer science, which is the last period of the day and your roommate, who shares the same CS class with you, has to wake you up when you don’t move an inch at the sound of the final bell by forcefully slamming his notebook on your desk, making you jump slightly.

“C’mon, Techno,” Skeppy says, grinning widely. Where does he even get all this energy, that’s illegal, he’s got to have dark magic or something. “If you’re gonna nap here your back’s gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.”

You let out a tired sigh, muttering something about how you hate everything and everyone and stand up unenthusiastically. Skeppy has to basically drag you by your arm and you walk with closed eyes, half-heartedly praying that the latter is humane enough to not purposely walk you into a wall, despite of how controversial it might seem.

But, oh well, surprisingly enough, he does a decent job and you stumble and bump into strangers only a couple of times, until you finally get enveloped in the welcoming darkness of your dorm room, striding blindly to your bed and limply collapsing on it right away. You hear the brunet sprinkle at the sight quietly, rustling somewhere in the other end of the room, before soft steps and a door click signal you that your roommate is gone. Good for you. You yawn once more and wipe your teary eyes, vision blurry, and let your eyelids fall shut.

A minute of silence, finally.

Ah, and also a minute in _your_ understanding means fourteen hours, just saying, and so now, exactly fourteen hours later, you are being woken up by obnoxious beeping of your alarm clock from somewhere up on your bedside table. You wince at the sound and mentally curse, waving an imaginary sad goodbye to the last sleep residues and groaning lowly. You hear a loud and audibly unpleased groan in response to your discontent come from the opposite side of your room and you start an absolutely meaningless grumbling debate with your roommate. You don’t even know what the two of you are arguing about, but by now it became some sort of tradition.

With a heavy annoyed sigh, you knock the clock off of your commode and raise on your elbows, blindly reaching for your glasses. You absolutely despise mornings. You are ready to punch the god in the face just for creating them.

———

Your name is very much still Technoblade and this is the day.

This is the day when you either die or tell the green boy to suck it.

It’s currently 11:30 AM of the Wednesday morning. It has been exactly one week since the preparatory physics exam and you are ready, you are sober and you are very much awake, even if you had to down several cups of gross packaged coffee in order to achieve this state. You and Dream exchange sneaky glances at the same time, looking away almost immediately. No, you can not let this buffoon intimidate you with his beaming confidence, not today. Because today is _the day_.

You hope it is.

You burn a hole in the head of physics teacher’s assistant as she slowly, - too slowly for your liking, - walks between the rows, handing over the test results to the students. You have done everything in your own power to prepare for this one and yes, you know perfectly well that it isn’t even going into your status report, but you don’t care, - your only goal is to beat Dream in his own little game and then crush him on the actual exam and celebrate it with a pink frosty cake and flashy rainbow banners or someshit. You invisibly bite your lip, your leg nervously twitching under your desk in anticipation. You know you are being a petty little drama queen, but you can’t have it any other way - your winning complex and pride practically force you to take this shit no one else even cares about way too seriously. The stupid freckled nerd isn’t that different, you note ironically, and the thought partially puts you at ease. You smirk for a flashing second.

Finally, after what felt like years, the assistant comes over to your desk and you barely stop yourself from tearing this godforsaken paper out of her stupid hands, nodding politely with a forced smile instead.

When her back faces you and she starts walking to your other classmates, you impatiently turn the sheet around and quickly look at the circled red number in the top left corner and…

_Sigh._

You turn the sheet back face down to the smooth surface of your desk and don’t even bother to habitually look on Dream’s score. You can certainly feel his curious studying gaze on you anyway, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care and decide to ignore the tingling sensation for the rest of the period. You shift in your seat uncomfortably and rest your chin on your hand, staring blankly at the teacher who started explaining something important to the class. At least you guess that it was something important. You didn’t quite listen to him, too occupied with drowning in self-flagellation and utter frustration.

The bell rings, but you just sigh, not really hurrying to leave the room. You know what your plan D is, but you oh so don’t want to put it into action.

You frown and turn around your sheet once again.

Nothing changes and you let yourself get lost in your thoughts.

A star student has no right to suck at anything. You are pretty sure that physics is counted as a part of this 'anything' as you stare with contempt at your 89% test score. This is ridiculous. Completely unacceptable. _Pathetic._

You finally let your gaze slowly drift to the opposite side of the room and burn a hole in the sheet with a perfect 98% score a certain green-eyed blond is holding in his hands. Of-fucking-course.

You sigh heavily and swallow your pride, finally admitting your defeat. Internally.

Your classmates start to leave the cabinet and you see your target move as well, so you slowly stand up and pick up your stuff. Dream is on his way to the door, laughing about something with Bad in his stupid, wheezy manner and you take a couple steps in their direction, trying to calm your dying nerves. When they are about to pass by you, you grab the stupid green-eyed nerd by his forearm, getting his attention. He tilts his head, looking at you surprisedly.

“Techno? Is something wrong?”

“Dream,” you begin, pausing to rethink for a second. “May I have a word with you?”

Your voice is calm and composed and your cold confident stare pierces the shorter boy with icy spi-

Whom are you kidding, your voice fucking cracked shamefully mid-sentence, and you looked literally anywhere except for your opponent’s eyes. You basically feel like an anime schoolgirl who is about to confess to her meaningless middle school crush and is not-so-secretly shitting her pants. You are glad that, at the very least, you sounded monotone and emotionless enough to not seem like a complete loser there. Or the said anime girl, good god, you would’ve hated sounding like one.

There is a long silence that seems to go on for ages and you are miserably failing to mentally prepare yourself for the laughter or a passively-aggressive joke that is about to be thrown in your face, shattering last pieces of composure that are somehow still left in you. You can already feel this humiliation as-

The joke never comes.

“Sure,” he says instead, handing his green backpack to Bad, who smiles confusedly at the two of you, leaving the now almost empty classroom. Now, that the two of you are the only ones left inside, you feel your anxiety skyrocket. Bruh. “So, what’d’ya want to talk about?”

Aw, fuck no, this sucks.

But, then again, backing away and saying that ‘jk, happy early April fool’s nerd’ in the middle of literal November would technically be even worse. Actually- No, never mind, that is definitely worse. You inhale and clench your fists inside of your school jacket’s pockets.

“I need your clout over the dumb laws of physics,” you deadpan before you can reconsider and oh my god you are an idiot what was that even this life sucks so badly dear lord please spare you shit shit shit _why_.

Dream blinks.

Then he blinks twice more.

The open window behind him suddenly looks very, _very_ appealing.

“Uh?” he starts uncertainly, huffing an anxious laughter and bringing you back from your thoughts of dying right then and right there. “I don’t think I understand?”

Jesus Christ, this is so awkward.

“I,” you stretch lowly, as you try to come up with words, your voice sounding even deeper than usual. When nothing comes to your mind, you grit your teeth and loudly inhale through your nose. Fuck it. “Okay, man, I can’t do this, just take a look yourself.”

You hold out your physics sheet with a little more force and aggression than you initially intended and try to keep your posture lazy and cool. Cooler than a fucking penguin. Come on, just be coo-

You feel like you’re failing terribly.

Dream’s hand takes decades to finally reach the piece of paper you are holding and bring it closer to his face, examining it with interest. The tension in the air seems so thick, you feel like it can be cut with a knife. He raises his eyes back to you, the look unreadable, but you swear you can see perks of relief and victory somewhere in its depth. Or you’re just being way too paranoid. Maybe both.

“I don’t see a problem here?” he says unsurely, but you know, _you know_ you can hear small notes of amusement splash in his words, this little freaking shit. He smiles at you hesitantly, his head tilted to the side yet again. “Your score’s good, probably higher than almost everyone else’s, inn’it?”

You narrow your eyes. Ah, the humiliation. ‘Almost everyone else’, your ass.

Being _second_ best is just not an option for you. Doesn’t seem to be one for the boy in front of you either.

You count to five to calm down your nerves. You are here to negotiate, not snap necks, fucking focus and just act cool, Techno, come on, quit being a big baby.

“They can be better, can’t they?” you ask, sounding more casual than you feel. Thankfully, your timbre allows you to pull off this kind of bullshit. “Come on, Dream, you are the sm- One of the most brainy kids in this course, so I’d _appreciate_ it if you could, like, tutor me a bit or somethin’?” ah, shit, he definitely heard you stumble there, you just gave the nerd a free ego boost. This is not how passive-aggression works, you don’t think you’re supposed to give the object of your passively-aggressive assaults nice light-hearted compliments. You just hope that your unclear muttering was incomprehensible enough for him to not make out this part. As well as the rest of your request, so you could gracefully yeet yourself out of here and pretend like this dialogue never happened, the ultimate regret of ever opening your mouth swallowing you to the very core.

“Tutor you,” the boy stretches thoughtfully. You finally get enough courage to look him in the eyes. There’s a long pause. “Wow.”

_Wow?_

Understandable, have a great day, very informative.

“Aight, never mind, I’m leavin’, sorry for takin’ your time.” you turn 180 degrees and start striding towards the door, feeling like the last idiot.

You hear the latter gasp shortly, before a hand grabs your wrist, stopping you midway.

You turn your head back to look at Dream, one eye brow raised.

He offers you an apologetic smile, chuckling softly and letting go of your hand.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, beaming at you. It’s so blinding it kind of hurts your eyes. Or maybe your brain finally caught up with what you have just done and is now cringing at you disapprovingly. “Sure, I don’t mind. When’re you free?”

You freeze, not quite being able to stop your eyes from widening ever so slightly. You stand there, taken out of guard for a bit before you let out a disbelieving chuckle.

Honestly, what in the world is your life anymore.

———

Your name is Dream and holy fucking shit _finally._

You can’t help but grin uncontrollably, Techno’s surprised face is pure freaking gold.

You weren’t expecting anything exciting to happen, but today must be your lucky day because you finally got the upper hand over the year’s biggest geek, after _so goddamn long_ you finally have him right where you want. You feel ecstatic. George will hear no end to your bragging for at least a week.

You know that you are acting like a child on the New Year’s eve, but do you actually care? Absolutely not, sir, you got the wrong address, haha.

You two walk out together, absentmindedly talking about the most random crap on your way to the backyard. Techno is easy and interesting to talk to, which is nice to know, because usually you two rarely get to talk one on one, if ever. And you find his voice fucking funny, you can’t, you thought you were going to die from bursting laughter when he started to furiously complain about your history teacher, putting in his hilarious sharp comments and remarks, and yet still staying as monotone and emotionless as a depressed forty years old british man would be. This is some quality shit entertainment.

The majority of school hallways are already empty, with most of the students currently having a meal outside, so you get only a couple of curious looks from passerby’s, because, well, it’s not like your _obvious_ rivalry is a secret to anyone from your year, in fact, probably everyone in this school knows about the two of you because of that, plus, neither of you are exactly great at pretending to not give a shit. You suppose that seeing you chatting peacefully with your biggest rival must be weird, if you were them, you’d probably stare as well, as you get to the back doors, pushing them open to enter the lunch area. And of course you feel it, people are staring and it really gets on your nerves. You can feel Techno stiffen uncomfortably and stop talking in the middle of the sentence, briefly thanking you and then walking away to the table with Will and Tommy and the rest of his usual company looking at him. They seem to ask him questions but he brushes them off, drinking his water like it was the most delightful thing he has ever tried in his entire life. You giggle at the sight. You wish you could seem just as indifferent. You think that in order to achieve this level of pokerface you’d need to wear a plastic mask that will cover your entire face. You wheeze and shake your head, brushing away the thought. That would’ve been the peek of absurdity.

You then make your way to your regular place, where George and Sapnap are already waiting for you and sit down between the two. You spot Bad sitting with Skeppy not so far from your table, eyeing you curiously. When he has your attention, he nods at your bag that you asked him to carry earlier and mouthes a question you didn’t quite catch. You wave dismissively, - you’ll fill your roommate in later and as for your bag, it can wait untill the end of the lunch.

“Was that Techno?” George asks confusedly, hanging his goggles on the collar of his white shirt. You snort and roll your eyes.

“Nah, it’s just Elon Musk, why’d you ask?”

You get a light punch in your shoulder from George and a cackle from Sapnap and wheeze half-heartedly. For awhile the three of you just enjoy your terrible meals in comfortable silence.

“No, but seriously dude, don’t recall you two being friendly friendies or whatever. I’m, like, curious, man,” Sapnap asked carelessly after he was done with his food.

You chuckled.

“Like hell will I tell you, what if we’re going on, like, a date or somethin’?” you said casually, innocently blinking at the two and then turned your head to the british boy by your left side. “C’mon, Georgie, you can stop holding back and start bein’ my jealous boyfriend already, we don’t mind, we love you the way you are.”

Sapnap snorted in his juice, spilling it on the front of his shirt, cursing Dream and laughing at the same time. George was scolding and insulting him loudly, trying to look annoyed and unimpressed, but his poorly suppressed smile was giving him away.

“Just kiddn’,” you say, when everyone seems to calm down. You take a sip of your water, letting an amused smirk bloom on your face. “Techno just asked me to help him with his studies. Y’now, like a tutor.”

George chocked on his cold coffee and you wheezed at the sight.

It’s intoxicating.

And way too funny.

And no one needs to know that you were mere hours away from asking Techno to help you out with chemistry.


	2. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took some time to actually plan out the fic, so (i hope) the gaps between the next chapters will be shorter than this one :v
> 
> also please remember that this work is not supposed to be taken seriously, don’t ship the a c t u a l creators 
> 
> and thank you everyone for your support :>

Your name is Dream and good god, Technoblade is a freaking studying machine.

You kind of envy his dedication, even if he will never know about that, ever, not even through your dead corpse. It’s admirable, but no free ego boosts for him, not from you. You remember him making this mistake and accidentally calling you the best at physics. You marked this day - September 16th - on your phone calendar. 1-0, four-eyes, duh. Get passively dunked.

“Dream?” you snap out of your trans and blink a couple times confusedly, a pale hand waving in front of your face. “Y’alright?”

You want to scream, because fuck no, you’re not al-

“Sure thing,” you say. “Sorry, just got carried away for a second. Where did we stop again?”

The electronic clocks display 2:09 AM and you rub your eyes, trying to force yourself to concentrate on the worksheet in front of you two. Second law of thermodynamics. Friction coefficient. The formula of tangential velocity. What the fudge is this bull-

You give up and stare at Techno.

He stares back.

You sit there and stare at each other for at least ten years, the latter’s dark brown eyes boring into your very soul intensely. It makes you way more self-conscious than you’d like it to. You also fight the urge to poke his cheek to see if his face will still stay blank and it takes you more effort than you would care to admit to suppress the temptation.

Then the moment fades and Techno’s gaze slowly drifts to his phone and he quirks his eyebrow in slight surprise when his lock screen lights up, blinding both of you a bit.

“Whoa,” he deadpans. “I’m gonna go to jail for intentional sleep deprivation. We gotta wake up in five-ish hours, I think it’s about time we go to sleep. Uh, ‘m sorry for makin’ you stay up for so long.”

“Yeah, it’s alright,” you sigh and lean on the back of Skeppy’s chair. “Let’s actually continue other day, because, like, jokes on you, but I’m a bit tired.”

Of course that is just a dirty little lie. A deception. A tactical bullshit.

In reality, you’re so fucking tired you think you are going to die next time you’ll hear someone (ahem, Techno) say “alright, next”, and see them (ahem, him) take out a new pile of practice papers out of nowhere like a freaking low-budget magician. You’re low key astounded that the latter can stay so calm about the the fact that he, in reality, possesses fucking dark magic. Who even needs physics when you can do shit like that.

“Skeppy’s been on an hour ago last time. He’s prolly crashing at your room with Bad,” Techno stretches, lazily scrolling through his phone. You sigh. He gives you a sympathetic look. “Prepare for your sheets to smell like his awful deodorant again.”

Ah, right.

You cringe.

_Aw, man._

_Fuck no._

You stand up with a groan and a stretch and think about taking a cold refreshing shower before you sleep. The thought dies the moment you hear Techno collapse on his sheets. Tiredness crashes at you in thick, powerful waves.

“Whatever, I’ll just take his bed again,” you yawn frustratedly and fall face-down on the cool blissful surface of soft bedsheets. They smell like Techno’s roommate and it weirds you out but you can’t complain, because you literally forced the poor guy out of his own place. You feel too lazy to go get your stuff from your room and change into pajamas or brush your teeth or simply move, so instead you try to get more comfy and burry yourself further in the fuzzy blanket. You toss your tie and kick off your sneakers. “G’niiight.”

You hear the other boy hum and quietly shuffle in his bed as well, before the lights go out. He probably didn’t bother to do his night rituals as well.

“Good night.”

And now...

Fall asleep as fast as you can, come on, brain, shut down, it’s easy, please, you just gotta make it faster than-

You hear a loud snore come from the other side of the room.

Well, _shit_.

You’re literally one step away from starting to kick the air in front of you like a clown. A really sad, really depressed one, that is to say.

In the few times that the two of you stayed up for a very long time, you noticed that Techno has this stupid habit of draining himself to the last drop and then passing out immediately on a literal snap of the fingers. It would’ve been fine by you, the dude’s working hard, he deserves a rest but _holy hell_ , does he _actually_ need to snore like it’s the end of the world, what the _fuck_.

You groan loudly, not even bothered by the fact that this could potentially wake your classmate up, because no, it won’t, he’s a deadweight right now. An immovable sack of potatoes. A loud, snoring goddamn mountain. Sigh.

You check your discord for the last time, set an extra alarm just in case, cause you have a feeling you’re gonna dismiss the first one and leave your phone on the charger. It’ll probably kill the battery a bit but right now you couldn’t care less, it’s the middle of the night and you’re not in the mood for a full-nighter, nor are you in one for having a no-charged-phone day tomorrow. You close your eyes, proceed to ignore distracting noises coming from the latter and after painful 27 minutes you finally drift into the kingdom of morpheus, knowing that tomorrow is gonna be a very long day. Sad boy hours hit you hard.

Yours and Techno’s alarms go off at the same time, exactly at 6:45 in the morning and you want to cry. You are too pissed to care and you just send your phone flying across the room just to get the annoying beeping noises as far away from you as you can. No, you’re not going to classes today, god, can everyone just leave you to die in here, please, you’re willing to pay with your body and soul if that’s what they need.

Fortunately enough, your phone lands on Techno’s bed, so you won’t have to curse your past self for being dumb and dense as a brick after you see the broken screen, and the boy sits up with an irritated growl, automatically reaching his hand to the source of sounds and turning the alarm on your phone off. You throw the first item you could find with your eyes still closed, which just happens to be Skeppy’s long-forgotten apple into Techno’s still beeping alarm clock and it goes silent. You probably broke it, but, then again, who cares when it’s finally quiet and peaceful in the room again, you can repay him later. Teamwork makes the Dreamwork, duh.

“Good aim, nerd,” Techno comments with a yawn in his raspy morning voice, as he carelessly falls back on his sheets, seemingly unbothered by the fact that the alarm is meant to give you an indication that it is time to wake up and get ready for important shit, whatever it usually is. You huff a half-hearted chuckle and mimic your classmate, letting yourself drop out of your consciousness. School can wait.

You’re ready to _kiss_ Techno when he wordlessly turns off the second alarm you set for yourself yesterday two minutes later.

———

Your name is still Dream and you are ready to _kill_ Techno after he wordlessly turned off the second alarm you set for yourself yesterday two hours later.

It is currently 9:38 AM of a Thursday morning and both of you are running 13 minutes late for a shared english class after successfully sleeping through the entire first period. GG. You probably would have skipped the first half of the day right away, if Techno did’t practically shake you of of your mind with a bewildered expression a couple minutes ago.

“How did that happen,” you mutter, hurriedly tying your school tie in a spontaneous manner and searching for your second shoe at the same time.

“Dude, you think I know,” in the complete darkness of the room you can barely make out the brown-haired boy’s silhouette. “Oh my god, the stress.”

Both of you synchronically dash out of the room at the speed of light, putting Usain Bolt at shame and trying to not slip, fall and die miserably on your way to the LL classroom. Your sneakers get soaked wet when you sprint through puddles on your way from dorms to main campus and you start to actually consider getting a lung donor after you make it to the third floor speedrunning six staircases. You two make it there almost at the same time, with you being just a few seconds faster, but, of course, that’s not important, aha (it is, suck it, mr #1/#2 student), and almost break the door when you send it flying open with a loud thud. You’re also panting as if you just gave birth to a Santa Claus and everyone’s heads are turned in your direction, among them you spot George trying not to choke on his bursting laughter. Jerk.

“I’m... We’re... Sorry for being... late...” you manage in between your heavy breathes, holding the doorknob like it’s the last thing keeping you alive. “We over... overslept.”

You heard a dying wheeze come from your left and spared your crime-partner a quick glance, noting how he was leaning heavily on his knees with his head bent the floor. If not for the situation, you would’ve definitely teased him about his physical fitness.

Mrs O’Hmygod furrows her brows at you but nods nevertheless, signaling that the two of you may take your seats, which you hurriedly do, landing heavily next to George on your usual place and accompanied by muttering of your classmates.

“Look who decided to join us,” you hear George whispers and roll your eyes, elbowing him mockingly.

“You’re so dumb, shut up. I just overslept, happens to the best of us.” you suppress a yawn and open your copybook to create an illusion of studying process. “I just went to bed really late, leave me alone.”

“Yea, your new bestie is taking all of your time, I see. Are you cheating on me, Dream?”

You snort and both of you laugh quietly before the teacher gives you a warning glare and you return to the classwork. George quickly fills you in and you continue working on your important (no) assignment, with your brain still drifting somewhere else. You know that this teacher lady hates you, which is why you’re pretty sure you avoided a detention only because Techno is her pet, so now you owe him one. Whatever, at least he sucks at math, ha, nerd.

English and Spanish classes pass quite quickly and it’s lunchtime again, so you meet up with your friends and take your place. You flawlessly pretend to enjoy way too salty caesar salad that school offers. Sapnap and George bicker about something random, as they always do, but you’re way too sleepy to pay attention to the actual conversation between then. Screw you, Techno.

You end up completely spacing out. You think about fall break and seeing Patches (and, ugh, Drista too, you guess (jk you love her)) again, you think about video games and coding and how you and George have been putting off the-

“Hey, Dreamie,” someone brings you back to Earth by snapping their fingers loudly in front of your face. “Dreammmm, you there?”

Your vision finally focuses on the big brown eyes and a trickster smile and you recognize Skeppy in his diamond blue hoodie with his hand clinging onto Bad’s jacket, the other boy standing right beside him.

“Elo? Hi! You’re here,” he beams at you and tilts his head to the side. “Sooo, did you sleep well?”

You blink, not quite catching up yet.

“Uh, yeah? It was alri- oh,” right, you need to apologize. “Sorry I took your bed.”

The boy brushes it off carelessly. The glint in his eyes doesn’t seem as dismissive.

“Nah, you’re good, don’t worry about that,” Skeppy finally takes a seat, dragging your roommate with him. You don’t mind.

Skeppy casually builds a fort out of his fries. Ketchup looks ugly but it makes the pieces stick together.

“And while you were gone, Bad licked your toothbrush.”

You spit your coke.

George chokes. Bad does as well.

“Wh- NO,” the objected boy starts incredulously. “I would never, Dream, you know me, he’s lying!”

“Nah, dude, I saw it. With, like, my own eyes. Both of them, duh,” Skeppy nods his head with a serious face. “Admit it, Dream would understand.”

“No! Dream,” Bad turns to you with anxious face. God, he’s way too naive. How did he even end up befriending Skeppy out of all people. “Don’t believe him, this muffin-head is just being disgusting.”

You struggle to maintain an understanding and serious aura. Crouching tiger. Hidden dragon. Calm. Your hand reaches out and finds it’s place on your roommate’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Your facial muscles ache very badly as you struggle to keep them relaxed.

“Don’t worry, Bad. I got you,” you give him a gentle smile and he exhales relievedly, returning it and taking a sip of his orange juice. “Which is why I don’t understand why would you be so scared to tell me that, it’s fine, I can always buy a new one and you can have my toothbrush. Should’ve just told me you wan’ed it.”

Bad coughs and bursts into yelling and rambling and then yelling again as the rest of you laugh at him. His face is tomato red and you ruffle his hair.

“Just kiddin’, you’re fine,” you take your hand away and spot Techno’s table with the corner of your eye. Is that- is he seriously eating cereal for lunch? What is he, five? “So, did you guys want something or-”

“No, we’re just chillin’,” Skeppy says innocently and throws a handful of gummy bears into his mouth. The suspicious glint returns. “So, is it Techno’s fault or yours that you two are staying up so late and evicting me out of my own room for, like, third time this week?”

“Ah, yea, he’s your guy, not me,” you answer without a moment of hesitation and enjoy not feeling bad for shamelessly ratting your classmate out. Skeppy is being sketchy as hell so you have to keep his wrath off you, whatever it takes, and you certainly don’t mind throwing Techno under the bus here. At least one of you has to survive.

It’s so cruel that this passively-aggressive attack could almost be considered openly aggressive.

“Mkay, I see. Thanks.”

The conversation goes on and, remembering your week of total sleep deprivation, the whole time you shoot wary looks at your study-buddy, silently praying for him to not ask you to help him today again. Please, you can pull all-nighters from time to time, it’s not a problem, but that doesn’t mean you can do that regularly, it’s been fourth time in these seven or eight days, geez, Techno, take a break. Chill upstate and stuff.

God, Will and his Hamilton references-

At some point he finally catches your glance and gives you a knowing snicker and a short nod. You exhale in relief, interpreting it as a freedom pass and relax your shoulders that you didn’t notice were so tense. Even if it’s impossible to hear from that distance, you swear you heard Techno chuckle at you. You smile. He’s not that bad sometimes. You can work with that.

The history class is spent in scrolling through social media and listening to one cheesy song on repeat due to the lack of anything original or interesting recently. Boring. You look at your notebook filled with random dates and names that you will never remember with a deep sigh. The teacher shoots you a couple warnings and annoyed looks and but you dismiss them. You don’t care.

On chemistry you’re paired with Wilbur for your long-term research project and the two of you share a pained understanding look. Chemistry’s awful. Projects are too. You can hear George, who took biology this year instead, laugh in your ear and whisper “sucks to suck”. You mentally tell your subconscious friend to fuck off. For some reason you also hear Techno whisper “get good” and give his mental hologram silent treatment. He isn’t even real, he’s not worth your witty bite-backs. He isn’t even your friend.

———

On the evening of the same day, you suddenly find yourself repeatedly hitting your head on the sticky surface of the wooden table in your room, struggling with one of your english final quarter one assignments, not quite getting the problem with your writing. The teacher gave you feedback four times and every time your work is “good, but could be better”. You know that it’s unlikely that she will give you a fair grade, but damn, you need at least 93.5% on this one to get a perfect final score for this quarter. You have to somehow make it “great, but could be better” if you want to feel satisfied.

“You know, you could ask Techno for help there.” Bad says casually, highlighting something in his observational notepad. “He’s good at that stuff, he didn’t sign up for tutoring or anything, but he could give you a small discount there, right?”

You frown.

“Why do you think I need any help at all?”

Your roommate quirks an eyebrow and slowly pulls out his phone, with your discord group chat open.

_**SnapMap 18:56** _   
_[1 photo attached]_   
_yo guys_   
_dream’s broken lol_   
_[1 video attached]_

**_SnapMap 19:33_ **   
_[3 photos attached]_   
_lmfao he’s still on it_   
_@DreamWasTaken u alive there buddy_   
_he didn’t even notice me come in i wanted to copy his hw_

**_George[404] 19:34_ **   
_And you ended up copying mine, gee, screw you_   
_@SaintsOfGames Why’s he doing that_

**_SnapMap 19:34_ **   
_- > And you ended up copying mine, gee, screw you_   
_ily2 gogy_

**_SaintsOfGames 19:41_ **   
_- > @SaintsOfGames Why’s he doing that_   
_I think he’s trying to finish his english task or something >_>_

**_George[404] 19:42_ **   
_L_

**_SnapMap 19:43_ **   
_L_

_**SaintsOfGames 19:43** _   
_F_

There was a long thread of other messages but you got the point and giggled at the video, raising your eyes back to Bad.

“Pft, have some faith in me, I’ve sent her the new version, I think I got it this time, it’s flawless. The highest quality shi-“

“Language.”

“Stuff.”

Bad gives you a skeptical look. You snort and roll your eyes. He puts highlighter down.

“Really?”

You wink. The smile you give him is confident, maybe even a tad bit cocky.

“Really. I’ve figured it out.”

———

Your name is Technoblade and Dream just bombarded your door at 11 PM yelling something about how he has no idea how to figure shit out and you don’t really know how to feel about it.

“Sorry, you said somethin’ there?” you ask tiredly, quirking your eyebrow after you open the door and see the boy in question in front of you. You note Skeppy mumble something suspiciously similar to ‘for fuck’s sake’ and stand up on the corner of your mind.

“Yes. No. I don’t freaking know,” the blond seems pissed and it catches your attention. Pretend to be friendly and find out the enemy’s weakness, then strike. Passively. ‘All warfare is based on deception’ - Sun Tzu, Art of War. Dream stares at you and his eyes seem darker than they usually are, but maybe it’s just the lighting. “You gotta help me.”

You cross your arms and lean on a doorframe. Interesting.

“Help you with?” you clear your throat to get rid of the tired raspiness.

Your eyes catch the twitch of his left eyelid at the question. Interesting-er.

He fakes a smile and you could feel boiling anger and flaming frustration radiate from him. Ah yes, it sends shivers of ironically cold satisfaction up your spine.

“English.”

Your brain takes a couple of seconds to proceed information before eyebrows go up and you whistle quietly. The final essay. He’s here for the final essay.

Ah, the serotonin.

But before that-

You turn your head to Skeppy, your mouth half-open to ask him something but you see him fully dressed with his backpack over his shoulder.

“‘Do you mind stayin’ at Bad’s t’day?’” Skeppy mimics your low bass. You frown. The nerd just read your mind. Skeppy drops the act. “I hate both of you,” he says with almost no venom in his voice and the next moment he’s sliding by you, leaving the room wordlessly. You chuckle softly and thank the void, too lazy to yell your words of appreciation out loud after your roommate.

With the main distractor gone, you turn back to the blond, open the door wider and step aside. The count’s now officially 1-1.

”You may pay me in food for my services.”

“Yea, no.”

”Awh. Rude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not read the final text thoroughly there might be some inconveniences im sorry- if someone points them out I’d appreciate that

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i recently reread homestuck, i hope that kinda explains the weird pov
> 
> oh and english is not my native language so i'd like to apologize for possible mistakes :,)


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